


Oiseaux Sauvages

by Valdyr



Series: The Phoenix and the Turtle [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternative Stag Night, Crying, F/F, F/M, Fluff, France - Freeform, M/M, Stereotypes about the French, Weddings, and not so fluff, for differing reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valdyr/pseuds/Valdyr
Summary: On the first new light after the longest night, Kurt and Sebastian will become one forevermore.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: The Phoenix and the Turtle [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/504499
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Belle-Mère

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask about all the crap that happened. I am just finally finishing up.
> 
> \+ Cursive means the speech is French. I don't speak it, I took Latin instead; and I don't require anyone else to speak it, either.

He didn't feel ready.

He could see it in the distance now, coming up over the hills, glazed with a picturesque dusting of snow. He hadn't been here in so long. But it hadn't changed a bit. Not like him. And still, he didn't feel ready at all.

He wanted Kurt at his side, beaming some courage into him with a smile. But some things just couldn't be told on the phone. So he hadn't told his mother yet. Just asked her if he could visit, several weeks early. And she accepted at once, inviting him to come home - his childhood home. But he hadn't told her about Kurt yet. His phoenix would fly after him when he had the okay.

He just needed to face her on his own first. And mend the bridges just a bit, before he stampeded all this new information right over them.

And he did have Kurt's best wishes with him, keeping his heart warm. And his nether regions slightly tight if he thought about the circumstances of their giving for too long. But make-up sex was just the best. Especially when you didn't even have to have a terrible fight first.

It really hadn't been that serious. Just a slight disagreement. But he really hadn't wanted 'all the original New Directions' there. No offense intended, but they were not just a thought of completeness, they were their own people, with their own attitudes and actions, that he did not necessarily agree with or want at his wedding.

Thankfully, Kurt had agreed with each or his very carefully crafted arguments. Like his concerns about Tina, who would definitely find a way to bring Blaine into this or otherwise spread sourness on his behalf. So no, she was not coming to their wedding.

And Mister Shue... he had some good intentions, but blatantly turning a blind eye to bullying, using kids for his own purposes, not to mention some general deficiencies in his morality that were clearly necessary for a grown man and authority figure to end up performing suggestive dance numbers for sexy songs with his underage charges...

Sebastian just didn't like him. And while he could forgive a teenage bully, like 'Puck', who ultimately overcame peer pressure and American highschool hierarchy systems to develop into a genuinely better person, an adult who barely changed at all was not that deserving of forgiveness for him.

Rachel was also not welcome. And he never even got to explain this one, because Kurt already snorted just from hearing her name. He raised one brow, maybe with a tiny little smirk sneaking into the corner of his mouth as well, and Kurt declared that he was perfectly fine, not having to deal with any snappy passive-aggressiveness or even an outright temper tantrum, just because he wouldn't be handing over any solos to Rachel for his own wedding. The spotlight belonged with the grooms for this, thank you very much.

In the end, they decided on a much more intimate set-up. Also because certain people, wherefor he was not mentioning anyone like Sam by name, had definitely gone to Blaine in their falling-out. And try as he might, but once he thought about it, Kurt couldn't even say that he was really all that close to Mercedes anymore.

...They really each had their own lives now.

As hard as that was for Kurt to accept, though, coming back to what used to be his life felt even harder for Sebastian. The château was right in front of him now, the way there passed by in day-dreams. And his mother stood out front, held only by her little sister. Now he had to be ready.

" _My boy?_ "

It was a whisper. Had she still doubted he would show? He must have hurt her so much. It stole his voice and he barely whispered too:

" _Hey, mom. I'm home._ "

Some kind of noise broke out of her and suddenly she was in a flurry of motion and already hung from his neck, ramming his back into the side of the car when his knees were too weak to stop her momentum from throwing herself at him with all that she had. But having his breath knocked out of him only gave her more room to wrap him up in more French within seconds than he had heard in months. He only caught fragments of it:

" _Oh honey, my sweet boy, my dear ... you're here! ... Have you been growing more? ... You're not eating enough! ... How was your flight? ... And in this weather, you'll catch a cold! ... Why aren't you wearing a thicker scarf? ... This one is very pretty, though, it suits your eyes... Who picked it for you? ... Oh, sweetheart, stand up, you'll drench your trousers in the snow... Dear, you're not saying anything, are you alright?_ "

When the bubbling finally subsided by itself, not at all aided by his aunt, who tried so hard and failed so badly at keeping her laughter in check that her shoulders were shaking from it, or by him, for that matter, as he still could not find any words to say. And not for lack of French, though it might be that his mother had just claimed all the words there were and left none for him. And in the end, he didn't have to say anything. He just let his smile consume his face and the as of yet unshed tears blur his sight and pull the body before him tightly into his embrace. That was enough.

It was enough for her to stop searching his face and just hug him back tighter. And keep hugging him. In the end, his aunt did have to intervene and pull them from the snow they had gradually been sliding deeper into. That was just a bit late and they were both soaked. So she ordered them inside and called her husband, who had apparently been patiently waiting leaned against the door, to get all his stuff from the car.

Guillaume bumped into his shoulder as he passed him to obey his wife and pulled him into a sudden and brief, one-armed hug with a warm smile, a firm nod and a deep-voiced "Sébastien" under his breath, without ever losing his pace. He nodded the light greeting back and hurried the missed step after his mother, before she was pulled back by his stopping via the grip of their joined hands and got startled.

He didn't want her to start crying again. Or at least not out here in the crisp of winter.

And it was so warm inside. Heat welled from open-hearth fireplaces in all the important rooms of the ancient building, renovated and insulated though it may have been in its old age. Already the sight of a real fire, reflected from mirrors larger than life and framed with gilded carvings of deer and hounds, had warmed him to the bone. That and the pure smell of home.

Once inside his cousins ran up to him as well and these he caught well enough, though all efforts were lost when the twins arrived to make him fall right over again. Thankfully on a plush rug this time. And soft, and smelling of home. Chamois, probably.

Only Camille had any sense and stood back, after ordering her own husband to go help with the luggage. Noël clapped him on the shoulder as he rounded the huddle of limbs on the chamois. He was not as enthusiastic, but they had never been that close. The guy was screwing his sister after all.

Another reason only became apparent after he had righted himself again and finally seen why his older sister hadn't jumped him, too.

" _Camille? Is that... Albert?_ "

_"Yeah. You got some things to explain before you get to hold him, though._ "

Fuck. He really was an uncle. There had been a letter, of course. An invite for the christening. But he had still been a minor then and his father hadn't wanted to go. It wasn't a Smythe after all. And now the boy looked old enough to walk. And they had never even met. Fuck.  


But his mother shielded him from any and all interrogation. He would be grateful, if it didn't feel so much like she was scared he might shy and run off, never to be seen again. And he owed them an explanation. Everyone already knew of course that he had only left at his father's insistence. But it was not like he had really fought it, was it now?

No. He had been glad to go, while he was still here. As in before he had reached his assumed goal. Because his father had wanted him. Because it couldn't have been his fault that his father had left them, if he wanted Sebastian with him again. Because he wouldn't have to hear his mother cry so much if he wasn't here anymore. Because he had thought that he could talk to his father and make it all better again. He had had many reasons. And they were all so fucking stupid to him now.  


But still his mother protected him, from the doubt, the hints of bitterness and maybe even resentment. It was dinner-time, she announced. Maybe a bit early. But if anyone noticed, and who was he kidding here, everyone did, then they didn't bring attention to it. But hey, his cousins seemed to have no mixed feelings for him at least. Danielle absolutely insisted on being seated on his lap and Hugo glared at her for the entire duration of the meal over having voiced the idea and gotten her way before him.

By some unspoken order of his mother, the meal passed with him mainly being told how things had been on this side of the water. Only slowly and in careful tidbits did they ask him things, too.

" _What was this Dalton Academy like, actually?"_

_"Rather out of place in rural Ohio. Nice, I guess. Mostly easy. Pretty charred now."_

_"Charred?"_

_"It burned to the ground. NOT while I was in it! Don't worry, that was more recent. After I graduated."_

_..._

_"How is university?"_

_"Not as easy. But manageable. ...Not that interesting, either. It's just means to an end."_

_..._

_"What was it like to live with our father?"_

The table fell so silent, you could hear the ticks huffing in frustration at the chamois for being a blood-less rug and not feeding them properly. He could see his mother pump her lungs, laying the words out on her tongue, getting ready to shoot. But there was no use in beating around the bush. And he did want them to know.

_"It was lonely. Like nothing I have ever known. We were in the same country. But there was not a lot of 'with our father'. Except when I had someone in my life who needed to be cut out from it in his eyes. He had time for me for those events."_

'And not for the rest of the time' went unsaid, but it was heard well enough. There was less bitterness after that.

With dinner concluded, a lovely mouflon side covered in spicy molten goat-cheese with red caviar-eggs and Greek-inspired salad, sprinkled with parmigiano, everyone went their own ways. Albert was put to bed. Danielle and Hugo had some more time to play but followed soon enough after. The twins stayed and played cards with Camille and Delphine, while Noël and Guillaume had a drink. Only his mother sat with him.

But he would have been a fool not to know for a fact that every single person in that room was listening to them.  


_ "My sweet boy, I am so happy to have you here. You can't imagine just how much." _

_ "I do. I am really happy to be back here, too. Thank you for letting me just come over like that, after everything I-" _

_ "No, dear little dove, there is nothing you could ever do to make me banish you from our home. You will always be welcome here." _

_ "Thank you, mom. I really... I really missed you." _

It wasn't what he had meant to say. But that had felt stupid in the end. He didn't just appreciate her welcoming him and saying it was unconditional and it was not the thing he loved her for. There was too much of those things. All of which he felt guilty beyond measure for. For a moment he wished that he had never left. She hadn't deserved that. But he wouldn't have met Kurt if he'd stayed.

_ "Sweetheart, I am glad that you know that. So please don't misread me. But I have to ask: What changed? Why did you come now, in the middle of winter?" _

_ "'t's not. Winter hasn't even started yet." _

_ "On the calender, honey. You know winter comes early for us." _

_ "Yeah, I know. I... uhm..." _

How did he say that now? Straight out like ripping a band-aid off or did he circle the long way round? ...What if he lost his nerve?

_ "I-I was wondering if I could ...borrow the château? For the solstice? Well, the day after?" _

_ "...Borrow it? I am sure that I will agree, but whatever for?" _

He hadn't missed the muffled snort off to the side and he could imagine the thought behind it. Of course he only came back when he wanted something from them that he couldn't get any other way. Better rip it off then.

_ "To marry here." _

They didn't keep the pretense anymore at that. Cards splattered to the ground and Guillaume choked violently on his drink, while Noël set his own down with a clank, liquid swapping over the rim. The glass had still been full, without having gotten a refill in the past half hour. Amateur. No wonder he was shit at poker. But everyone would have lost their stakes then. They stared, utterly unabashed.

His mother was the first to right herself again. And now she drank. The entire glass she had been idly swirling around. In one go. The smile on her after was worse than Noël's pokerface.

_"I am very happy for you. What may be her name?"_

He hestitated, but not for long.

_"Father's not invited, mom."_

Now the faux smile slid off and she fell right back into shock.

_"...he is not?"_

_"I had them meet. And they... didn't really hit it off. My ...angel did impress him, but didn't meet his criteria. So we talked about it, and about you, about how things went, just a bit. And I made a choice. And I want to marry my seraph here, with you all, in my childhood home. ...If that's okay."_

She didn't hesitate.

_"Oh, Sébastien, of course it is! Of course, of course it is!"_

She clutched him again, pulled him right from his chair and squeezed the happy water from his eyes in squalls. He would be so embarrassed, but never because of her.

_"But sweetheart, you have yet to answer the most important question of all!"_

He looked up into her crinkled eyes and heard the question dance over her genuine smile:

_"When do we meet him?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY about the false update for chapter 2, I was working on the draft, went to save it and accidentally uploaded it instead. Good news is I'm almost done and will upload tomorrow. I basically just need to check and refine at this point but am too tired to finish today - as the accident shows.


	2. Nom de Famille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. I woke up earlier than intended and finished this little monster. So this post is intentional and won't disappear again. :)

Oh holy mother monster. It was a castle.

Well, a château. But Sebastian really could have given him the heads-up about what they were talking about here. He thought it was a villa. Not an only understatedly fun-sized palace!

He was really grateful that Sebastian had picked him up at the airport and hugged him and snogged him like they spent decades apart until people cat-called, cheered and started getting quiet again and security coughed with a youtube-logo coloured blush going around, but he could have also mentioned this.

Honestly, he wasn't complaining that Sebastian was interested in his life and how things had gone in his absence, which might have technically been not even a week, but certainly felt longer than that after all. And he would never complain about all the juicy little ideas Sebastian had whispered into the shell of his ear with little kitten-licks for emphasis. But seriously?!

"You said it was a manor."

"Actually, I called in an estate. Which is correct."

"Oh shut up and pull over!"

"What?"

"Right now, stop!"

"Fine, fine! But why?"

"Why? Because your childhood home is the single most gorgeous location I have ever seen in my entire life and I have my camera in my bag. That's why."

Sebastian made a huff-chortle-laugh kind of noise and pulled over. The second he stopped the car, Kurt was already out of it and snapping the trunk open to rummage around for the right bag, which he then nigh on upended on the roadside, before rummaging through the mess and snatching his camera from amidst some rather questionable holliday sweaters, that probably only experts would ever conveive as fashionable. It had obviously been right at the bottom.

Where else would you ever put the thing you needed first?

Sebastian stretched his legs a bit, getting the wait at the airport out of them for good and finally just leaned against the car, arms crossed, but really just admiring the view, while Kurt basically documented their surroundings and apparently took notes. He didn't ask, the view alone was good enough.

Not of the château, mind you. That was Kurt's view. His was Kurt viewing it. Just his soon to be husband, gazing at his home with a shine to his eyes that made them sparkle in the white winter light. Just the fluff of his coiffed hair with the barest sprinkle of fresh-fallen snowflakes, delicately laid upon its softness. Just the blush of his marble cheeks from the cold and the way he bit only half of his bottom lip in concentration.

Then he wetted them again, against the crisp, dry air, a moist little muscle-tip of pure pink darting out to stroke over the full, glossy-

"Bas?"

"Yeah? I'm paying attention."

"Did you listen, too?"

'Completely, I just might not remember it', was already in position on his tongue, but he swallowed it back down.

"No, sorry. I was too distracted by your beauty."

This blush was not from the cold. But Kurt was not embarrassed either, going by the smirk pulling at those lips. It really was a shame that they hadn't had the chance to greet each other properly yet. They really should have just stopped at the restroom when he picked him up. Or maybe he could convince Kurt, since they were already parked...

"I told you to get back behind the wheel, silly turtle."

The countertenor chuckled with it and closed the trunk again, with the camera still in his hands. All packed up again. Already. Pity. But it was rather cold to be doing it out here. So Sebastian sighed dramatically, making Kurt chuckle yet more on the way back to the passenger door, and reached for his own. When both were sat down and he fastened his seatbelt, he saw the camera rest in Kurt's lap.

He had never envied an inanimate object so much.

They still had to stop several times more for Kurt to take more pictures, now explaining to an actually listening Sebastian that he needed them to plan possible photo-shoots for the new designs he was already feeling the inspiration trickling over all his senses for. Sebastian just rolled his eyes, but did keep his smile.

Right until he gulped it down at the sight of pretty much everyone, waiting to meet his choice to share his life.

_"Mom, gals, and guys, this is Kurt."_

He swallowed again, rubbed his hands on the sides of his pants and breathed some very deliberate breaths. How did he get so sweaty all of a sudden? It was like twelve degrees on the wrong side of the freezing point! But he had kept it together for now. Mostly. He could swear that his ears were thumping.

Whenever did they get so close to the door? A momemt ago, they were at a snail's pace, constantly stopping, taking their time, and suddenly the driveway was behind them. Oh. Now he got why Kurt had needed so many pictures. He should have realized that it was a stalling technique. But Kurt's cuteness had actually managed to distract him from the impending confrontation. Unless his frizzled nerves made him overinterpret things now, seeing as Kurt...

_"Hello, everyone. It's wonderful to meet all the people who raised and loved this one here, even if their sense of fashion must have passed him by, because that is an amazing shawl and I might need to know where you got it, but I am afraid I'll have to ask if I might get the chance to thaw a bit first...?"_

_"Of course, sweetie. Please, come in and warm up, I'll introduce everyone in due time. I imagine you were stuck in traffic, and in this cold, too. Poor thing."_

Huh. Well, he was just going to follow Kurt then, as Noël gave him a stink-eye for being on mule-duty again whereas Guillaume just rolled his own. Delphine had already descended on Kurt, helping unwrap him right as he passed the door with all the blatant candor of a pet dog looking just the other way from your last sausage on the low table, while Camille was coincidentally right at his own shoulder, not at all holding his arm hostage as she led him in after them.

But the rest showed even less subtely, as his mother politely guided Kurt to the closest fireplace and sat him in place to prepare asking her questions. First just general chit-chatty stuff, of course, ensnaring him before she would surely go in to put him on trial between them.

_"There you are. Delphine, lovely, will you get Kurt a hot cup of coffee? With...?"_

_"Everything right now, please, I need to get some feeling back. And thank you dearly. But I'm afraid there was no traffic to blame, only myself."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Yeah, I'm sorry for the delay. Your home is simply so beautiful, I couldn't help saving some pictures of it."_

'Don't flatter her too hard,' he thought. Then he wondered where Kurt's camera had disappeared to, now seeing him in just his tight pants and that all-encompassing wool-monster he wore over his chest, arms and upper thighs, even nearly swallowing the thin, crossing belts.

He must have left it in the car... Well, it might have been rude to bring it out and keep photographing everything, though he could tell by the look in Kurt's eyes and the clench of his fingers that he was itching to note something down or made sketches.

" _Hmm. I do imagine you don't quite have one of these on the other side of the Atlantic._ "

Damn it, mom. He is not a gold-digger!

_"No, we really don't. And no view over the world off a penthouse suite no matter how amazing it seems at the time, can really prepare you for this feeling. It's like... stepping into another century, where men still wore leggins and jewellery and five different colors in the embroidery alone. Or straight into a fairytale."_

_"Where a fairytale prince awaits?"_

She was teasing, thank goodness. But still wary, that was clear enough. He wondered if he should interfere. But they were too many to prevent them all from cornering Kurt without him at some point or another. So maybe he should just let them get it over with now. Unless it was a test for them both.

_"Pretty sure that Kurt is more fairytale than me. I might be a bit jaded for that."_

All eyes snapped to him and he knew the last part had come out a bit... weaker. More like a hoarse whisper than the nonchalance he had been aiming for. There was pain in some of those eyes. They wouldn't talk about it, though. His rampant and reckless whoring was never discussed in this house. And they didn't even know how much worse it had gotten after his relocation...

But Kurt didn't know those rules.

"Sebastian?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, before I get you a therapist. You hit a rough patch, shit happened. Then it got better again. And as long as you're happy now, nothing else matters. Understood?"

It was stern, but gentle around all the edges. Just a reminder that all was forgiven and he better believe it. They had both hit rock bottom in their own ways and still got here. And in the end, every wrong turn he had ever taken still had taken him to Kurt wanting him. For real and not just faking it.

His voice was still a bit wrecked then, but his smile was true and his eyes glittering,

"Yeah. I'm happy now."

Somehow, beyond his notice, the interrogation must have concluded, at least for now, because there was hugging, everybody got their coffees, Kurt's making him snort and cough when he realized that 'everything' included cognac - because every decent coffee had a shot of Courvoisier in it, duh - and finally his mother properly introduced everyone, allowing a more mutual exchange between the lot. Complete with embarrassing childhood-stories, of course. Damn his sisters.

Kurt had certainly been serious about using his childhood home as a location, though. He even talked the twins into trying out modelling. He'd tried with Camille, too, but she thought her belly didn't look the same after Albert. He had argued against it of course, finally making her smile and blush, but he hadn't pushed her. He only pushed Sebastian, because he needed fabrics and utensils and whatnot.

Thankfully, his mother saved him there. Well, her and Delphine. After all, it was the latter who had casually mentioned an idea for the wedding well within Kurt's hearing range that even Sebastian could tell was crap. She winked at him, when they led Kurt away to come plan with them. There were so many logistics still open. Apparently, even the exact color of the snow required an adjustment in the decorations, because the different whites most jarringly clashed where they met and couldn't possibly be allowed to be seen together.

His ardent designer still filled the better half of a new sketchbook. The way everyone here dressed, he told him. He just needed to put his ideas down! It warmed Sebastian up inside. And maybe it distracted him a bit, too. But hey, this way Noël didn't lose every poker night. He just needed the patience to remind his brother in law whenever it was his turn.

And there it was again, while his eyes and ears and entire attention was all on Kurt at the other table, discussing current trends about things Sebastian could describe no closer than 'clothing, probably' with all the women, so almost everyone, while most of those hung from his lips. Only Delphine seemed to have her own mind anymore and argued with him in heated battles of witty comments about stuff Sebastian couldn't follow, nor cared to.

Fashion just wasn't his thing like it was Kurt's. And yet, he felt nothing amiss right then and there. After all, he wasn't listening for the fashion. He watched for Kurt. For the way he puffed his chest and slung his long legs over one another. For the bite in his voice and the glow in his eyes. He didn't need to share Kurt's passion, when Kurt himself was his.

And he might have been day-dreaming, too. Because he completely missed the point where his mother stood up, rounded him, shooed an amused Guillaume and a presently out of patience Noël away and took a seat beside him. Right until he heard her chuckle behind him.

_ "When did you- How-?" _

But her grin was so wide he swallowed his words in embarrassment. And he hadn't even seen the dopey smile on his own face, making him look dazed in a very un-Sebastian way. He could only imagine the picture he'd made. That now turned a deep shade of red.

_"Don't, my baby. Love is a good look on you. As is happiness."_

_"...so you... do you like him?"_

_"You mean generally? Or are you asking for my blessing?"_

He sort of half-shrugged to that, his eyes maybe averted, just a bit.

_"Oh my baby, he brought you back to me! I would already praise him just to spite your father, but give him my eternal gratitude for returning my son to me. I had to probe a tiny bit, of course. But I have seen nothing wrong with him so far. And for genuinely making you happy, being yourself, he could have everything. Which certainly includes having me call him my son."_

He only gupled. And maybe looked a tad alarmed. And Kurt could sniff his panic.

_"You guys talking about me?"_

_"Yes, indeed. Why don't you join us?"_

Kurt was clearly surprised. Usually, people talking about him behind his back didn't admit to it and even less likely invited him to sit with them. But he sat with them, letting them gaze their fill, each for their own reasons, and politely, if a bit to tightly, smiled at his future mother in law.

_"And what were you talking about exactly? Anything I can add to or answer?"_

_"Well, we had just crossed over Sebastian's father."_

_"Ah, because I am another American?"_ 'And because you are afraid that history will repeat itself with tears and cheating and an inevitable separation?' remained between the lines.

_"Oh no, dear, you are nothing alike. No, you are so accomodating. Alexander would never have submitted himself to learning French for me."_

She snorted at that, bitter. And downed her drink, but continued as she got her refill:

_"He wouldn't even allow it to be spoken in his presence. It made him irate when people talked over his head. If they made it so he wouldn't understand, he thought, they must have excluded him on purpose. So everyone had to speak English with him and in the entire vincinity. But it is the lingua franca of the modern world, so I didn't fight him on its importance. Even when it bothered me. You, however, don't believe I didn't notice that you only speak English with my baby or when someone initiates it. We all still understand, of course. But it says a lot about you."_

_"Thank you, I certainly try. And it is a beautiful language, too."_

_"Oh, he actually thought that, too. But only in bed, when he didn't have to care what it meant and the tone showed the intent."_

Neither fiancé responded to that. Though Sebastian did consider that she might have had one or two refills too many. Well, she still noticed.

_"I am so sorry, I forgot your sensibilities for a moment there. But no, actually, we- well, before I forget: I would have prefered someone from close enough to move in and keep my son at my side. But I had already lost that chance before you came into the picture. So even if you take him away with you again and you both live over the ocean, I am already getting more than I had grounds to expect. And I can certainly hope that you boys will still visit us. But actually, we were talking about how he predictably rejected you."_

Kurt took a slightly bigger gulp of his own, albeit notably less alcoholic, drink as well now.

_"Yes, to both. Yes, we will certainly visit, you're family. And yes, he did have a thing or two to say against me."_

_"Typical. Let me guess: That you're a man and of lesser formal standing than us."_

_"Pretty much."_

_"Then let me tell you something."_

But she hesitated, took another big sip and corrected herself.

_"Two things... For one: Who cares? So you have a morganatic marriage then! I see no trouble there... No, in fact I have always felt that love, the love for an exalted lover, that is worthy just for the sake of loving, is eternally ennobling by its nature. And with that, all who love most dearly are as noble as they can be, which makes them equals as well."_

He was... touched. Kurt, too. That much was clear. He hid less behind his glass, but gazed into the middle distance with a secret little smile. Fuck, he loved his mother. She always had the sweetest things to say to him...

_"And secondly, I have three daughters already and can expect to get another in law, but only two sons, one of which is in law as well. I will gladly take one more of those over another hen to drown out my boys completely."_

...A daughter in law? He had... oh. And yes, Sebastian would later have that talk on not being in on the news, though he would leave a bit chided under the comeback that it was entirely presumptious of him to think he was the only one not entirely straight in their gaggle, even if he was the only outright gay one.

But first, his mother looked past them dreamily and continued letting her not-quite-tipsiness-anymore show:

_"Your father was much more civil when he had his twinks, too."_

No-one took a sip or a gulp or the entire drink in one shot. Kurt choked on his and Sebastian spit his on the table, startling his mother as if it was them who dropped a bomb out of nowhere.

_"His what?"_

_"Oh, sweetheart, my table cloth!"_

_"No, his what?!"_

_"Now don't be like that, it was just some fun. Which reminds me, did you plan for stag night? I should still have the number of that agency somewhere..."_

_"My dad... he... guys?"_

_"Did he not do that anymore in America? Ah well, his loose women were just a much worse influence on him."_

_"No, he... seriously? And you were okay with that?"_

_"Of course. They would look most titillating together. And he shared them, of course."_

Neither really felt like they were really the target audience of that conspiratory wink right then, but she wasn't done.

_"It was no more then when I called up my old girlfriends from boarding school, really. A great show, participation and... just fun."_

_"Mom, I'm glad you had such a fulfilling youth. But please no details? I don't need to know that closely and I'm sure you're giving Kurt culture shock."_

Kurt had set his drink down now, his lips patted dry again from coughing up what he had choked on. But he was still frozen on the spot from the weird turn.

_"Culture?"_

He wouldn't have called it that for sure, but to Sebastian, who had gone from here to Ohio of all places, meant what he had said.

_"Yeah well, this is France for you, the Black Death could break out again and people here would still meet up for orgies."_

He just nodded with another tight smile and probably reconsidered how sheltered he had been, growing up. But mother seemed to find it hilarious, before she suddenly became more somber again.

_"It was really nice. Just fun and games... it was innocent, when I still- When I knew that he loved me, nothing could have put a wedge between us. The world laid open before us. Bare and inviting. We felt like we could do anything, conquer it all and discover everything for ourselves. Make it all our own."_

_..."Mom?"_

_"Yes, sweetheart?"_

_"I- uhm... When I said that he wasn't invited, you seemed glad."_

_"Oh, I am! I am so happy for you. That you found someone to love. And that you are back here with me, with us."_

_"You just don't seem that happy right now. And you sound like you've been reminiscing... Do you miss him again?"_

_"Don't worry about that. Weddings just remind me of the good old times."_

She sways over to the couch after that and he shares a long look with Kurt, before his phoenix rises from his side to follow her.

Delphine takes the chance at once and sidles over to plop in the still warm seat beside him.

_"Looked like you had an interesting talk."_

_"Yeah. Bit short in inhibitions if you ask me, but yeah."_

_"Don't worry. She hasn't been like this the entire time you were away. Not quite so much anyway. ...You know how happy you made her with your return, right? And how proud she is of you?"_

_"I can imagine. I mean I stood up to my father coming here. And keeping Kurt."_

_"Hm. You're still studying to be lawyer, though."_

_"Actually I've taken up modelling. So that law degree is really more insurence for later."_

_"That is a very nice sentiment. But not thought through."_

_"...Why?"_

_"Bastien, be real. If you study now, but never even touch that, never work a single job in your own field, just model and in then in twenty years, or even just in ten years, suddenly try? No one will hire you. And with good reason, too. Because all that time you stay out of it, you will spend forgetting more and more. Use it, or you forfeit its worth."_

_"You actually want me to do what my father expects? Are you genuinely just telling me to fall in line?"_

_"I'm not telling you to please him. I'm telling you to think about your life. Getting over someone doesn't mean ruining your own chances just to spite them. If all your choices are based around going against someone, then you're still letting them control your life. The key is to base your choices on what is good for yourself."_

_"And that would be sucking up?"_

He knows it's petty. But this is so not what he expected from her. She had always been the most vocal of them all about never wasting another thought on his father. But in a way, that was also what she was telling him now. Just not to his comfort. But there he saw a smirk creep over her cheeks that was much, much closer to what one could expect of one's wicked aunt.

_"You do already work with you husband-to-be for that modelling thing, don't you?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And you like it, don't you?"_

_"Yes."_

_"And you would like to continue working with him, wouldn't you?"_

_"Yes. What are you getting at?"_

_"Just think: He is a designer. Someone who creates. That's intellectual property. His own and that of others who might infringe on his or claim that he infringed on their's. Even ignoring the right to your own image for all the people he works with, that does sound an awful lot like law to me. What company does he work for again?"_

_"He w-"_

_"I bet they have lawyers. Just think, little Bastien, what your father would say, if you get your law degree and become a successful lawyer, entirely based on defending your husband's fashion. And that of his colleagues, of course. He wants to see you in court, enforcing law and order, like him, taking down felons, representing the people. What would he say if you went right in his footsteps and then suddenly took a sharp turn left."_

Now he could echo her smirk.

_"I think that I might call my boss and find out."_

By the time they went to bed, it was late enough to be early. He intended to call Isabelle the next day and would bother with figuring out time-zones after he'd had some sleep. But before he could allow himself that sweet, well-deserved sleep, he needed to deal with Kurt.

"You look like you're running on autopilot."

"Hmm."

"Hey, Kurt. What's got you so absent-minded? Is this amout my mother?"

"Yes, well, no. I did talk to her. She... definitely misses your father. She told me so many stories. About the 'good old days'. I think... I mean she said not to invite him. But not like she didn't want him here. She said it wouldn't be right to risk our big day just for some closure."

"That certainly sounds like she wants closure and just won't ask. Well, I told her early on that he wasn't welcome. Maybe I should have just worded differently that I stepped out from under his thumb. Do you think she's lonely?"

"I think she could tell me in months how long her daughters haven't seen him, while notably making no mention of herself. Just us having our day versus them getting a proper talk and goodbye."

"He's never met his first grandkid, either."

"So you want him to come?"

"I... ... ...Fuck, I don't know. I hate him, right?"

"I know I kind of did, when we met. But you also spoke in his favor then. You told me he is not actually homophobic. So you must have still seen something in him, to bother to say anything in his defense."

"...I don't like this. But I do know I would hate to see my mom sitting there the whole time, thinking about her own, very past happiness and pretending that she is not fighting not to cry, just because she martyred her own interests to make things easier for us. And Camille was really hurt about him not even caring that she's had a baby in the meantime. Dammit, I need them to get closure, so they can focus on us."

"Good. I made another invitation already."

"But-"

"I explicitly goes for him only. No plus one."

"Good."

He deflated with a big sigh of relief, lax under Kurt's head like a proper pillow should be and playing with the soft hair laid on chest as Kurt only allowed him in the dark, when no-one was going to see it before he would arrange it again. But...

"Wait. You said you were thinking about something else. What was it?"

"Names, actually. Talking about your father got me thinking again. Without 'legitimate' children of your own, whatever the conditions for that in some more backwards minds, you're the last Smythe of your line. And I am the last Hummel. And I just don't think that our names match well. But I also don't want to not share one name with you. That would fell like our marriage is just on papers. I want it to show in our identities."

Yeah, Smythe-Hummel, Hummel-Smythe, it just didn't ring. So now they were having the talk he had specifically never initiated after all and they still needed before everything got official.

"Me too. ...Do you want me to become a Hummel then?"

Kurt was silent for quite some time, more than he had really anticipated, just stroking over his abdomen, a bit below his own head.

"No."

"You want to become a Smythe?"

"Not really. I like your maternal family a lot more, to be honest. Smythe reminds me of your father again. I just... Hummel is... also a reminder. When it was just my father and me, it was good. But there is no Hummel family anymore. It's Hudson-Hummel now, or Hudmel, as my brother called it."

Ah, this was about Finn, the one who died.

"Do you want that...? As a sort of homage?"

"No, this is my future. I don't want it controlled by my past. I just feel like there should be no Hummel without Hudson anymore. It makes me sad. Feels like a loss. And I want to gain you. I don't know I want for a name."

The countertenor pressed his face harder into his chest, rubbing his cheek up in a quest for comfort until he ended up tucked under his chin, wedged tightly into the curve of his throat. He swallowed with the feeling and his thoughts raced about two miles a minute. He thought about the ring.

"Sauvageau."

"Huh?"

"Sauvageau. That's the name of my maternal ancestry. I have a... a signet ring, actually. It has doubled as a wedding ring for some generations now, though. Since my great grand-mother was the only heiress and received her husband's name on her own wedding. Since then my mom's family has switched names again so it was no loss to become Smythes when she married my father or in Delphine's case a D'Arnaud through Guillaume. But our line is still Sauvageau. ...I've actually thought about changing my name before. Though that was more day-dreaming. Still it's...I just like it. The crest is even still around the château in places. I could show you."

"...That sounds beautiful. To be honest I don't feel like getting up again before morning, or maybe even around noon, but I'm certainly interested. What's on it?"

"A bird in flight, half over forest and half over water. I'm not sure what kind of bird, actually. It's kind of prototypical. Like a songbird. Though now that I'm thinking back, it might be a pidgeon. The founding story is... long. I don't really remember most of it. I mean I could try."

"Please do."

"Alright. Well, there was something about a sudden siege from an enemy sneaking around the noble army and they bombarded the castle with fiery tar-barrels. But then one single heroic... guy, the alleged ancester anyway, he unleashed all the animals to save them from the fire while the rest of the people just saved themselves or tried in vain to put the fire out. In vain because they were too few, I think. Thing is, the horses all ran straight into the enemy surrounding the castle and were caught and used by them and the dogs ran into the enemy as well and were killed and some such. But the birds, they flew free. And I think some bird supposedly flew to the army camped in the field and alerted the king or whoever was in charge. So they found out, turned around and saved the castle after all. And the guy was knighted and got lands and stuff for enabling the rescue by setting free the birds. So if any of that is true, it should have been a messenger pidgeon. Or it wouldn't have flown to the army."

"Or a dove. Like my turtle."

"Hm. It was black, though. No, blackened from the smoke, that's how the knew of the disaster without it carrying a message. But you're right, of course."

"...I like it, too. And objectively a French name can only help in the world of fashion."

"You want to take my matrilineal name?"

"I think I can abandon the patriarchy enough for that that."

His eyes sparkled with the teasing tone and Sebastian was entirely helpless in the face of that smile.

"Then we shall be Kurt and Sebastian Sauvageau."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will be shorter, but contain some songs, which might make it look longer. And just by the way, finding songs for their wedding and rounabouts was a pain. I don't know wedding songs. So it might still be weird, but I think it fits them.
> 
> And I should have the very last chapter up by Sunday or Monday at the latest. :)


	3. Conjugué

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. ...I changed the ending. Hope you enjoy!

Unbelievable.

Kurt had honest to god sent a private jet to pick them up. Well done, boy. Man. Damn, the little nuisance had grown. To think back to when he had been nothing but a whiny little Gleek... He'd really made it. But so had she, hadn't she? Happier than she had ever been, true to herself, right off the stage and with a beautiful wife on her arm.

And Brittany looked extra excited. She seemed to get along really well with Elliott as well. He didn't quite get her yet, but it was all the funnier for it. The Hudmels didn't seem to see the humor in it, appearing rather sympathetic, but Puck certainly did, laughing in huffs and guffaws. Right until Elliott asked him what he liked most about Kurt. He turned very still after that.

But Quinn didn't seem to take it too seriously, if the teensy little smile tugging at her rosy lips as she looked over from under her lashes was anything to go by. Guess, she knew better than him. And maybe didn't mind. Even liked it a bit? And now Santana wondered if they might have an agreement that could benefit her. Really, all their unholy trinity.

The flight itself, however, lost the appeal of novelty very quickly. Two hours in one room together was uncomfortable enough. But two hours was not enough to cross the Atlantic. Nor three. Or four. Or... anything close to okay, really.

Still, they all had their passports, as Kurt had made sure they did long in advance, and by the diva's mercy for once, they did not have to survive all this time in a tight space with Sue Sylvester. Kurt's announcement had been a shock, though his explanation had slightly alleviated it. Figured that the crazy coach would get along with the Meerkat. And still, at least she flew separatively. Now Santana could enjoy thinking about the terror of all those poor passengers without having to endure it herself.

When they were finally in France, though... That was something entirely different. And not just because she didn't understand shit. At least Quinn spoke French. As the only one, really. Carole seemed to vaguely communicate as well and Elliott looked like he either understood bits and pieces or received exotic inspiration for that spiritual journey he had sort of talked about to Brittany earlier - Santana had not exactly listened to him the whole time - but they were all very much relieved when they found Kurt waving at them.

There were hugs and well-wishes and questions on how everyone was and how excited and whatnot and juuust maybe she hugged him, too. But only half. And with a grimace (smile). Then there was traffic. Sebastian drove, actually. He had waited by the car. Nice job, Hummel, that was a well-trained chaffeur right there. And still so fine. Honestly, if they weren't both gay and in relationships she would have smacked his little Warbler ass on the floor and banged him silly in front of those cello guys when they'd had their duel. Good times.

She was really happy for Kurt. She would never say that out loud of course, but she was. Or maybe she would tell him at some point, but not now. Maybe for the wedding. Well, that left her all of two days to swallow her pride.

And maybe she actually would. Because once they had survived the traffic, which was quite the feat and might still come back to haunt her in her sleep, and their destination finally came into view... it was official: Kurt was a Disney princess. And Brittany did ask if he sang for the birds now and they talked to him. Even Sebastian just smiled.

But the palace... really. It looked just about ready yet, too. Aaand they had a guest wing. Not guest rooms to share. They had a guest _wing_. Their hosts liked guests, apparently. Especially teasing them. Mostly by speaking French and giggling. Though they were also ridiculously hot:

Camille, Sebastian's older sister, seemed a bit self-conscious around them at first, but once comfortable enough showed a snarky humor and dry wit to go with her pointedly droopy shawl-like top and skirt so short she would sure freeze something off if not for the fluffy-soft sockings going up to mid-thigh, could definitely have passed for a femme fatale chilling out, being hot in some snowy mountain lair.

His younger sisters were maybe a bit too jailbait for her, though by their own ever so teasingly suggestive whispers perfectly past the age of consent, and she could definitely imagine Brittany taking care of them, in every way. Maybe they could teach them? It was just a thought anyway. Something to joke about or gasp filthy nothings about with a tongue to her clit. That sort of thought.

And Delphine was just a straight-up cougar, her nails deep red claws to match her lips like she drank blood with her Bordeaux, her smirk ever-present and the same Emerald eyes as her nephew. And she wore black. Not much in total, but all that she did wear was an all-consuming black and tight enough to show off every curve and nipple. Though she promised to switch to something matching her eyes for the wedding. But most certainly not before the stag night.

Ah, but the stag night.

"Come on, man, it's your last night of freedom. You got to seize that while you can!"

"No, Puck. I won't lose a thing when we marry."

Sebastian beamed right back at him. It was just sickening to see them like that. Like you could feel your teeth start to rot from the sweetness. Both of them could be bitchy as all hell, but now they were this.

"We'll only gain indeed. But it kinda is tradition, isn't it?"

"You want a stag night?"

"I see it more as a... 'Wedding Day Eve'. There, we can do and watch all kinds of raunchy things before the big day. Just like with Christmas and New Year."

"But I don't want to be parted from you for any stupid tradition."

"If I might interject: Nothing can be stupid when it has body-shots."

Of course they agreed with Santana. Well, duh. But only Sebastian could ever really get to Kurt:

"I don't want to be parted from you, either. But nobody said that we had to. It's our wedding, so it can our stag night, too. So more like a Pre-Wedding Night. After all, we're both the stags here."

"Thought we were birds, my dove?"

"Oh, we are. But also still stags, so like some really horny pegasoi."

And Kurt puffed and giggled and looked around.

"Fine! Tell your maman to get the strippers."

Not a sentence she'd thought she would hear. But there was a story there apparently. Still, she had to make sure.

"There will be girl strippers, too. Right? Or are we not considered for stag night here, just because we don't like guys like you guys?"

"Hey, I'm not gay!"

"Sure, Puck. So, Kurt?"

"Of course. Bas, tell you mom."

"Will do."

"Hey, I mean it, I'm not... I like girls."

"We know. And you know that Santana likes to taunt, it's no big deal. Now, there is just one more thing."

His tone had an edge at the end there, that suddenly made everyone sit up a little straighter as a ghostly quiet laid over the room.

"You can drink, but nobody pukes on there lovely floors and nobody - and I mean NoBoDy - is going to be hung-over at my wedding. Understood?"

They did.

But, damn, it was still a wild Pre-Wedding Night.

First of all, there were six strippers. Six! And for the whole night until Kurt called it close so people wouldn't be too sleepy at his wedding, either. But seriously, it was the solstice. That deserved some celebration, right? Never mind Christmas, because really, nobody even thought about it.

Most thoughts revolved around fun or around what sort of people had designated party rooms, with stages and unlike the one in the old Berry house, stripper poles you could just pull from the ceiling and lock into little latches in the floor. Delphine only smirked more when Puck asked something mumbled but clear from context about that into the room, gaze unfocused and mouth open in disbelief.

But it had to be six, really. Because apparently, Sebastian's sisters, aunt, in-laws and mother were joining them. At least not the Hudmels, too. Still it meant that now every corner of the room had some eye-candy in it, perfectly allowing the family members to avoid each other if they felt like it. Which only really seemed to happen between the generations and the in-laws, though. If at all.

"Ah, uhm.. Well, my sisters and I have sort of been checking out guys together and describing to each other with hilarious exaggerations what we would do them since we have been old enough to care for a look... And Delphine was the one who smuggled us the magazines... and later movies... so we don't exactly have too many boundaries in that? It's not a big deal. We're just like best friends, were, are. You catch my drift."

"Yeah. So you never...?"

"Santana, they're girls. I wouldn't do them even if they weren't my sisters. Besides, when we still went skinny-dipping in the summers, you'd get teasing taunts or conspiratory compliments, like: 'Oooh, that new bra makes your boobs look so much bigger, think your beau will drop on the spot when he sees that? Bet his face will be priceless!' That sort of thing."

He shrugged with a dopey smile, that still looked so strange on his once smirky face, thinking back to the innocent fun of his youth before they were split. But they had really gotten closer again. Joking and teasing and sometimes wagering prank wars, just like in the olden days. But this time they were bringing Kurt into the fold, initiating him into their mischief.

Santana snorted and turned away to get another drink, the smile coming with her on her own lips as she secretly took is as another welcome confirmation that people could really change and be better for their loved ones, even her and Sebastian. But it had not all been bad. He had always been a bit of a magnificent bastard.

So she took her shot with the salt licked off the female side of the living bar, aka 'Chaton' and fished Brittany from licking some molten chocolate off the male side, aka 'Sucre'. She would never again wonder what to do with strippers, when you ran out of stages for them to dance on. Just deliciously lying around with food and drink on them, which was apparently a thing over here, suited them perfectly well, too.

Wife in hand she licked some smeared chocolate of her lips and got distracted snogging her for a bit. But ultimately she sat her down on one of the better chairs before the biggest stage and bellowed for some karaoke. First challenge: Sebastian better get here right now to relive their MJ duet in order to fire up the room.

The meerkat laughed, snuck some chocolate off Sucre as well - something they seemed to have bonded over, because there was no chocolate like the molten kind on some hot stuff's naked skin - and sat Kurt right beside Brittany. The now suddenly neglected strippers in the corners instantly adapted into some smoking back-up dancers. Because fire it was.

After that, everybody seemed to want to sing. Well, what do you expect from Gleeks, really? But some of their hosts readily joined in as well, albeit singing primarily in French. But no-one needed didn't know French to understand what they were going on about.

Even Elliott, who had seemed so coy and spiritual outside his stage persona, was soon singing that he wanted to " take a ride on your disco stick". There sure were some lovegames of that sort on the way. Plenty of snogging and heavy petting was already arrived and ongoing. And there was no doubt what was going to happen when Kurt finally called for bedtime, Sebastian hanging off his side without a shirt, though he seemed to have somehow acquired a tie now, by which his groom of tomorrow pulled him away.

And her? Why, she ended up reuniting the unholy trinity, on a much deeper level. She didn't check who Puck left with, though, and neither did she check what. But everybody had their fun.

In the morning, there came the chaos. It was the first light after the longest night. So it was his wedding day. But it was also Kurt's wedding day and that meant that everything had to be perfect. Flowers were everywhere, garlands, many made of patterned lace depicting primarily birds, and various taxidermied pheasants, capercaillies and blackcocks from around to the Alpine Mountains, completely surrounded on their tables by delicacies that most of their guests had never heard about.

But they sure looked straight out of a five-star restaurant, as several of the Americans commented at some point or another. His mother only chuckled. So Sebastian also didn't mention that Delphine and Guillaume did actually own and manage some restaurants between them. But who cared, really, right now?

Right now they just needed to adjust the damn benches to meet in the middle and moving the solid wood was hard enough, never mind inching them to align with each other and leave equal space on both sides. It had been a later thought and the light hadn't been ideal when they moved them the first time, so they had looked a little crooked. He just needed them to be right. Kurt would be upset if he saw that they weren't.

So he kept nudging this way and that until Camille declared that he was an even worse wreck than Kurt and would have a lot less fun on his wedding night if he pulled a muscle or busted his hands just hours before the ceremony. He gave the set-up another once-over. No, he'd need more manpower for this.

First he looked for Elliott, whose eye for appearances might help him find the correct positioning, but even before he could touch he door the guy's voice was coming from, Santana intercepted him. She might not like the superstition, but Kurt wanted to surprise him. Also his nervousness would spike Kurt's nervousness so he should find his own moral support now, Brittany, Elliott Carole and Burt were taken.

Fine. So instead he found Puck, idly standing around, however deep in thought, perfectly available. He approached him with maybe somewhat hurried steps and got his attention with a hand on his shoulder, only for the soldier to whirl around in a rather unprofessionally panicked manner and spout ahead.

"Woah! I'm not sleeping with your sister, dude."

He blinked... and frowned. For that to come out of nowhere...

"...you're sleeping with my sister?"

"No! I told you."

"Which one?!"

"I literally just t-"

"It better not be Camille."

"It's not, I swear! It's... uhm.. Am..elo.."

"One of the twins...?"

"Yeeeah."

"So no. BOTH of the twins?"

"Look, man, I-"

"Fine, whatever. Have fun, just know, I don't think this is necessary, they might be better at this than you, but just to be sure, if you hurt them..."

"I get it, alright. You'll make my life hell."

"No, actually. I will just tell Kurt. After all, they're the ringbearers, so if you make them cry, for any reason that is not just how overwhelmingly beautiful this all is, you ruin his wedding."

Now it was Puck's turn to blink. And pale.

"Fuck. You could just say that you hate me, you know."

"I don't. Just... not my sisters. 'Cause if you knock one of them up, you better be ready to commit. And once you're an in-law, so basically family, you won't be able to ogle Kurt's ass behind my back anymore. It will be weird."

"I would never!"

"'Dude', there are mirrors all around the house. I could see you in it, standing across the room behind us, while we were talking preparations yesterday, staring for like twenty minutes."

"I-!!! ...might have. Whatever. What's it to you, anyway?"

"..What my groom's ass is to me? You're seriously asking that?"

But Puck could only close his eyes and shake his head anymore.

"Look, it's alright. Everybody struggles. Just take a break from the bubbly for now and tell Quinn that you're ready."

"Huh?"

"She got one of the guy strippers' number last night, while staring at you and smirking the entire time. Same guy you happened to be looking in the direction of for the better part of the night. Give it a shot."

"Why would that...? What?"

"Because we're young and not everyone has figured themselves out just yet. And even if they have, there is no need to squeeze yourself into boxes for some label to fit. You can also just enjoy your freedoms and have whatever fun you like. Now stop distracting me and come help, the last guests are about to arrive and Kurt- okay, fine: I will freak if everything is not ready."

But is was. And it was perfect. Or maybe it just suddenly escaped his notice.

Their chapel was beautiful. Neither groom was really religiously, but it had the best acoustics, the ceremonial feel to it and ultimately, the angels all over the frescos could stand without the context. As half and entirely naked men shaped like Greek gods with iridescent gold and pearl wings generally were. Christian iconography or Pride Parade, whatever. It was beautiful and Kurt liked it and that was enough for him.

Now Sue antagonized most everyone on sight, but soon clicked with Delphine, that witch, and finally behaved admirably amicably. She wore a surprisingly frilly dress and her spreading flowers included tossing fistfulls right in people's faces, but more like she wanted to shove them down their throats than risking any blindings, so that was okay, too. It eased his nerves to chuckle at the sputtering a bit.

And finally they made their entrance. Each from one side, to their harmonizing friends and family. He liked his dapple gray and white suit, with a cyan and green accents to match his eyes, but Kurt... He had picked red. Deep burgundy dress pants, a carmine jacket and vermilion shirt. But his tie and all the buttons and the cufflinks and the offset seams were golden. They had talked about tradition and decided that black and white was not their style, but Kurt... He was the phoenix to his turtledove.

And so the both stared, eyes only for each other in complete disregard for the people between them as they walked the two aisles around them and finally met in the front to instantly grasp each other's hands. Amélie and Eloise brought carried each one ring to them on velvet cushions, the twins dressed and styled to look completely identical, all the way to their beaming smiles.

And if one had looked into the audience, one could have seen several people who would later adamantly claim the opposite and some who wouldn't bother with denying it openly wipe at their eyes. And if this number included Alexander Smythe in the very last row, one hand precisely an inch beside his wife's, then no-one could have told for sure if it was for her, his daughters, the toddler who was his grandchild on his lap and held tight and fast by his other arm or really just the beauty of the moment.

Sebastian certainly didn't look in that direction, not even to see Burt's silent encouragement and pride, or the fact that Carole held his mom's other hand tight with bittersweet solidarity. Not when Kurt was really the only person to exist anymore and he could sing for his firequeen.

"Vous qui cherchez l'étoile  
Vous qui vivez un rêve  
Vous, héros de l'espace  
Au cœur plus grand que la terre  
Vous, donnez-moi ma chance  
Emmenez-moi loin d'ici"

Not when he could see his eyes widen and that smile.

"Ne partez pas sans moi  
Laissez-moi vous suivre  
Vous qui volez vers d'autres villes  
Laissez-moi vivre  
La plus belle aventure  
Le plus beau voyage  
Qui mène un jour  
Sur des soleils  
Sur des planètes d'amour"

Not when he could not even contain himself anymore...

"Vous les nouveaux poètes  
Vous les..."

And he felt the need for their voices to conjoin:

"..oiseaux magiques  
Vous, vous allez peut-être trouver  
De nouvelles musiques  
Vous, donnez-moi ma chance  
Je veux chanter moi aussi"

Not when when they could not even look anymore, but had to lean into each other, closed-eyed with rivulets smearing their cheeks, and only whisper at each other anymore:

"Ne partez pas sans moi  
Laissez-moi vous suivre  
Vous qui volez vers d'autres villes  
Laissez-moi vivre  
Le bleu de l'infini  
La joie d'être libre  
Sur des rayons, sur des soleils  
Sur des chansons, sur des merveilles  
Et dans un ciel d'amour  
Le bleu de l'infini  
La joie d'être libre  
Vous qui cherchez ces autres vies  
Vous qui volez ver l'an deux mille  
Ne partez pas sans moi"

He couldn't have answered how they left to feed each other tiny confection as they slowly danced through their trance. He barely even noticed all the congratulations, not even Santana flinging her arms around them both and breathily admitting that she was happy for them.

He only really became aware once more at the tentative caution in Kurt's tone, when they let themselves be dandled away to the extended sauna on the other side of their grounds by their carriage pulled by white Camargues with narwhal tusks mounted on their shaffrons - because he'd promised and everybody was awed and Kurt's eyes shone at the sight to put the sun to shame.

"...I never want you to leave without me again, either. But, Sebastian... you know that 'ne partez pas sans moi' is by Céline Dion, right?"

"I know. She won the Grand Prix de la Chanson with that. Eurovision. It's a big deal, outside the US."

"And deserved. ...it's amazing. But she is... a she. You don't sing girl songs."

"Thought you would like it..."

"I loved it."

Then there was no caution left. Only a smile. So he smiled back again.

"See?"

"You sing girl songs for me?"

"You love it."

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand it's done. Thanks for reading!


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